Page 96 of The Garnet Daughter
I have done everything I can, hyperfocused on details I can’t control. But I know all the way down to my bones it is not over, and hearing that August believes in me perhaps even more than I do myself fuels my desire to finish this.
My body leans forward on its own, closing the distance between us until my lips press against his. I let out a sigh into his mouth when he deepens it, his tongue sweetly brushing against mine in an intoxicatingly slow kiss over too soon.
Eventually, we both recline into a more comfortable position, the fatigue from the long day finally sinking its claws in and forcing us to rest. The air has a chill to it that was not present before, even though it is long before sunset still. It’s heavier to breathe in, each exhale like taking in cold smoke.
I want to ask August if he finds it as strange as I do, but he is breathing so steady and deep next to me, it’s almost hypnotic. Even turning my head to face him makes it swing to the side as if the weight of it can no longer be supported by my own neck.
Fog creeps toward us, low on the ground of the plateau until it covers our laps in a blanket. And as I start to panic that we are not in control of what is happening, my eyes close and I’m taken over by what I hope is deep sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Aglowing light filters in through my closed lids, the utter darkness of our camp replaced with the warm hue of a campfire we did not start. I squint and find steady, dancing flames on the previously abandoned rock circle, the charred logs no longer covered in a layer of sand but ablaze, burning brightly. I rub at my eyes to rouse myself from the sleep I did not welcome and take in the details of our changed surroundings. Even the air is different as I breathe it in, colder and thinner. The plateau has morphed into something else, like a veil has lifted.
“August.” I shake him lightly. I’m unable to sense how long we slept, but it is deep into the night, possibly closer to dawn than dusk. “Wake up.”
He sits up abruptly, patting the ground next to him with one hand, searching for his weapon, and reaching for me with the other. The gun is missing, and even the waterskin that sat at my hip is gone.
“Did you start a fire?” His eyes are bloodshot when they focus on me, wild and startled at how different our camp looks before sleep took us over.
I shake my head.
He quickly stands, lifting me with him, but before I can even firmly plant my feet on the ground, we hear a noise on the other side of the plateau, a gentle rustle just out of the reach of the firelight.
Glowing eyes examine us with unnerving fascination as August tries to tuck me behind him. The shadowy figure of the old god we came for steps forward, the taloned feet it walks on changing to a delicate human form. The wings tucked close against its body, tall and arching, fade into the shadows, and as they shimmy downward, the feathers transform into cascading black hair.
Omnesis’s human form mimics a small woman, her eyes bright blue and piercing, face and teeth a little too sharp. I only saw this form briefly when she rose from the deep break in the floor of the temple before blue light transformed her into the truth of what she really is.
“Fear not, divine child,” she says in the language of the gods. She stands within the flickering light of the fire and then speaks again with a voice that echoes inward, chilling me down to the marrow. “The wind remained balanced until you began your journey to my temple.”
August is tense next to me, slowly glancing around to locate his missing weapon while trying to keep his eyes on Omnesis.
“It’s alright,” I whisper to him, realizing I need to translate her words. I can’t even imagine how they sound in his own ears. “She knew we were coming.”
If she wanted to kill us, she could have long ago. We made it through her ward, or perhaps she let us in, and now she stands before us as human, in the best way she can reflect. For reasons I am not sure, fear does not manifest within me, but a sensation closer to awe does.
“Do you claim the company you keep?” She glances at August and then back to me, as if confused by our contrasting reaction to her.
I step out of the comforting protection behind his body and take his hand. “Yes, I claim him.”
His expression is a mix of terror and trust as I whisper that it is alright to him again.
“You have nothing to fear. The human woman you traveled with was going to kill you. Her balance tipped too far for too long. The only relief in her demise was on the scales of her future victims,” she tells him directly, sensing the reason for his reluctance.
I get a flash in my mind of Sav’s face, the sounds we heard that night, but push the memory away, wanting to believe what Omnesis said. Her gaze is on me again, observing and waiting.
I translate, but August squeezes my hand, not convinced by the old god’s reassurance. He can see her as I can, more vulnerable in this form she presents to us. But it’s clear he doesn’t feel the calm of this place, the peaceful ebbing coming from the ancient rocks around us like a gentle heartbeat.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask, hoping she recognizes me.
She nods. “Your words were spoken in haste, not with care and even tone. I heard them fail. You freed me by divine accident. The mistake was not solely in the words, but also the third vessel in the ritual, the one that succumbed. You grieved when you saw me liberated because of the cost, a sacrifice of life, ever exchanging energy.”
The old god’s recounting of the ritual is like a slap across my cheek, a cold, striking reminder of my failure.
“Crixa, the highest priestess, had passed. We were desperate to replace her protection.” Thea’s yelp of surprise before she fell through the floor rings in my ears.
“I felt her ward around the city snuff itself out. The one around my cage faltered, but the many captors took over. She was a powerful divine child, but nothing compared to the one who claimed me for their own . . . or the one who freed me.”
